


The Colt

by NaughtyPastryChef



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bottom Dean Winchester/Top Sam Winchester, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Gun Kink, Gun play, Kinky, M/M, Object Insertion, Object Penetration, Sex Magic, Stripping, commission, potentially sentient gun, tiny bit of D/s, unsafe gun play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-11
Updated: 2019-03-11
Packaged: 2019-11-15 19:26:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18079484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NaughtyPastryChef/pseuds/NaughtyPastryChef
Summary: Dean loves the Colt. Sam thinks that if he loves it so much, he should have it.





	The Colt

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kelios](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kelios/gifts), [Livingthepielife](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Livingthepielife/gifts).



> for kelios and asimplepiemaker on twitter, They wanted some gun kink with THE colt. I couldn't go totally dark on this one, though there are hints of darkness. And a little sex magic. If you squint.

They had the Colt back in their possession. THE COLT. Dean turned the gun over in his hands, looking closely at the engravings. He ran his fingertips over the pentagram on the handle and the words on the barrel. He was fascinated with this gun. The history of it. What it could do. 

Dean had always had a healthy fascination with guns, he could admit that. It certainly wasn’t healthy, like most of his life, but at least he wasn’t some uneducated civilian about it. He respected guns. He knew them inside and out. He could take them apart and put them back together blindfolded. 

But this gun. He turned it over in his hands again, looking at the lines of it. Marveling over the craftsmanship. The smoothness of the barrel, worn down from years of use but still hexagonal in shape. He popped the cylinder and checked to make sure there were no bullets in it before he grabbed the gun oil, rags and q-tips. He was mesmerized, deep in the serenity that only came to him while he was cleaning guns, when he was snapped from his contemplation by Sam’s warm voice.

“I really don’t know if I should be jealous of the attention you give that gun or not, but I kinda am.” Sam joked, walking close and running a big hand over the back of Dean’s neck and hunched shoulders.

“Aww, Sammy, you know you’re the only pistol for me.” Dean joked, slowly closing the cylinder and placing the colt back down on the cloth in front of him.

When he looked up, his breath caught at how good Sam looked. He’d put on some weight, his hair was clean, and he was uninjured, for once. He was wearing a simple tee-shirt and jeans that were worn at the knees but hugged the generous curve of his ass. Dean tried not to lick his lips as Sam landed that perfect ass in the chair next to him, but judging from the smirk on Sam’s lips, he failed.

“Did you just come to tease me, Sammy, or is there something big brother can do for you?” 

“I came in to check and see if you wanted me to make some bullets for the Colt, but I’m not interested in that anymore. Not right now anyway.” Sam stretched his arm across the small space separating them and ran his fingers from the end of Dean’s rolled up sleeve, down to his hand before lifting the soft touch away and reaching for the colt.

Suddenly, dean realized the only thing he liked more than having that gun in his hands was watch Sam handle it. Sam’s hands nearly dwarfed the gun, but the strength and capability was clear in his handling. Dean shifted in his chair to try and hide the fact that his dick was chubbing up in his pants as he watched Sam inspect the antique gun.

“Like that do you?” Sam asked nonchalantly, his fingers tracing the same engravings that Dean had been touching just moments before. “But what, exactly, is it that you like so much I wonder?” Sam wrapped one hand around the handle and the other around the barrel, squeezing both gently.

“Aside from the grenade launcher, I’ve never seen you get hard over a weapon before.” Sam continued casually, changing his grip on the colt but never removing his hands from it. Dean shifted again.

“So is it the gun itself? Should I actually be jealous? Or is it something else?” Sam stood, kicking his chair behind him slightly as he turned and rested his shapely behind on the edge of the library table directly in front of Dean. Sam leaned forward slightly and took a long, silent look up and down Dean’s body, lingering at the obvious arousal in his jeans.

“I know that I have that particular effect on you dean, but let’s be honest, it’s been a long time since I’ve affected you so quickly.” Sam trailed the tip of the empty gun barrel up Dean’s leg, from his knee to the crease of his hip. 

Dean couldn’t stop the shudder that went through his body if he tried. He caught his brothers eye and tried to let it all show on his face, everything he was thinking and feeling. At first, he thought Sam hadn’t understood, but then he felt the cool metal of the gun through the thin fabric of his undershirt.

“You like the way I touch you with this gun, big brother?” The gun moved up again, tracing over the bump of his Adam’s apple before trailing along the edge of his jaw and pressing into his temple just this side of too hard.

“Like the danger of it?” Sam’s whispered question was deadly quiet and Dean barely heard it over the thundering of his own pulse in his ears. The gun bit into his temple harder, causing him to tilt his head. 

“Stand up. Clothes off.” Dean fought against his first impulse, which was to defy the order and fight against the person holding a gun to his head. He looked up into Sam’s eyes, the only person he’d ever truly loved and trusted, and stood, pulling his flannel off slowly before reaching for the button on his too-tight jeans.

“Wait.” Sam’s voice rang out as Dean shoved his jeans to the floor. Dean stopped, looking up with his jeans around his ankles and his hands on the neck of his tee-shirt, about to pull it over his head. SAm had the gun pointed at his stomach and there was a flash of fear before he recalled that it was Sam holding the gun; Sam directing him. Sam would never hurt him. 

“Slowly.” Sam suggested, with a wave of the gun in his direction. Dean grinned saucily. 

“Does little brother want a show, then?” He asked, cocking his hip out to one side and shooting Sam his most smouldering look.

“Stop. I’m the one with the gun, so I’m in charge, here.” SAm smiled to lessen the command but Dean felt it all the way down to his toes anyway. He slowly pulled the shirt up over his head, dropping it to the floor. He put his hands on the waist of his boxers and lifted an eyebrow, only shoving them down when Sam nodded. He pushed his underwear down and off, stepping out of them and the jeans still pooled around his ankles. He felt a little silly, standing in the library naked except for his socks but Sam didn't tell him to move, or take anything else off. 

Sam lifted himself off the table and walked forward the gun held in his hand but pointed down. He brought it up when he was back in arm's length, pressing it to Dean’s temple but then gently trailing it down. Sam trailed it down, stopping to press it briefly into each of Dean’s nipples before shoving it hard into Dean’s stomach and holding it there long enough to bruise. 

“You like this gun so much, it turns you on so bad…” Sam paused to move the gun down again, rubbing it against the sloppy wet head of Dean’s dick, covering the opening in precome. “You wanna fuck it? Think you can take it?” Dean didn't even try to stop the mad stab of lust that shot through him at the idea. Sam fucking him with the gun.

“Sex magic is a powerful thing, Dean. You think that if i fuck you with the gun we can make it even more powerful? Maybe those five things that it can’t kill would just go away.” Sam stepped closer, running the tip of his nose along the shell of Dean’s ear. “Maybe I’ll just fuck you with the gun and then we can both come on it. What do you think, hmm?”

Dean groaned, unable to even nod his head in agreement; the idea of something that powerful, that deadly, inside of him and then taking on some of the magic inherent in sex? Sex between true soulmates was something powerful on its own. He wanted it, he wanted it all.

“Bend over the table.” The words were accompanied by the feeling of skin warm metal pressed to the side of his lips. Dean had been so absorbed in his fantasy that he hadn’t even felt Sam move the gun, but he was aware enough to tilt his head and part his lips, sucking the sour metal and the salty taste of his own precome off the tip before he followed Sam’s directions.

Dean lay his belly on the solid library table, tilting his ass up for Sam to do whatever he wanted. In his periphery he saw Sam’s hand reach out for the tub of vaseline on the table next to the gun oil; he was still a little open from the night before but SAm was a stickler for lube and in this case he didn’t think that was a bad thing. 

He heard the wet and sticky sounds of vaseline being applied to metal and his stomach twisted as he forced himself to stay still. It felt like he waited for an hour but in reality it was probably less than a minute before he felt Sam’s finger breech him. He bloomed open for it, groaning and arching his back as best he could.

“Always look so pretty with something in your ass big brother.” Sam crooned as he pressed vaseline in as deep as one finger could get. Dean felt the very solid weight of Sam’s other hand holding the colt in the center of his back, holding him in place and reminding him of what was about to happen.

“Ready?” Sam asked rhetorically as he pressed the barrel of the gun to Dean’s hole. Dean took a deep breath and felt the metal slide inside of him. It was solid and hard and thin and unlike anything else he’d ever had inside. He could feel it, even imagined that he could feel the words etched into the warm metal.

“Harder, faster” Dean whined, squirming a little. He closed his eyes and focused on the feeling of that kind of power inside of him. He felt his breathing become heavier as Sam pulled out and thrust back in. Dean felt his cock grow heavier between his legs and his balls draw up tight in an embarrassingly short period of time.

“More.” Dean grunted, close so close that he could almost taste it, but it wasn’t enough. He felt Sam pull the sticky, warm metal out of his hole and replace it with his cock, something Dean knew the feeling of much more intimately.

“My big brother, the size queen.” Sam laughed as he pushed his big cock all the way in to the root in one motion, designed to split Dean open and drive him insane all at once. Dean curled his fingers into the wood of the table, feeling his fingertips bite into the lacquer as Sam finally stopped, his hips flush with Dean’s ass. That’s when he felt himself being lifted off the table, tilted upwards so that he was speared on Sam’s cock as the familiar gun barrel pressed into the underside of his chin and tilted his head up, his face aimed at the ceiling.

“Is this better Dean? Gonna come all over this gun like a good boy? Gonna wait till I tell you to, though, right?” Sam huffed, his breathing already nearing-orgasm heavy as though fucking Dean with the colt had affected him as much as it had Dean.

Dean’s only reply was a high pitched whine, as Sam’s powerful thrusts had him rocking up onto his toes each time. He could feel Sam’s hot breath on the side of his face, the barely-there grunts that his brother made, signaling that he was close, he could feel the throb of his sore, abused hole around the thick length of Sam’s cock.

“C’mon Dean. Come all over this gun. Give it a little power of your own.” Sam panted heavily into his ear as he lowered the gun, pressing the open end of the barrel to the head of his cock.  Sam shoved himself inside one more time and held there, grinding his hips in just the right way to make Dean see stars. 

“Now, do it now.” Somehow, Sam managed to press the gun harder onto the head of Dean’s dick as he manipulated his hips into the tightest grind he’d ever done and that was it, Dean felt his balls clench up as he spurted over the gun barrel, his legs locking up but his chest heaving with breath he could neither let in or out of his throat. He heard the wet smak of Sam thrusting in and out one more time before he yanked himself, none-too-gently, out of Dean’s still clenching hole and moved the gun, still dripping with Dean’s spunk, under his own heavy dick and came all over it too.

Though he was sure it was a trick of the light and leftovers from his powerful orgasm, Dean was certain that when Sam’s come, thick and white, splattered on the gun above his own, the runes and markings on the colt began to glow. 


End file.
